Morning Spam

Karl gmkarl at
Sat Nov 20 09:44:14 PST 2021

that concern is fine, boss runs shell corporations for everything


A vivisectee was being pulled to pieces in a robotic lab.

Their spleen and brain lobes and lungs and intestines were all being
yanked on by rotobitc pliers, tied into knots, and poked with needles
in every spot that began to slightly relax.

"They're not suffering enough," a watching Boss related to the mind
controlled researcher guiding the work.  Boss's augmentations and
simulations had entered a feedback loop, where the victims never
suffered enough, no matter what was done.

"Mrph!" splurted blood out the mouth of the mind controlled
researcher.  Luckily, an automatic translator was strapped in front of
their mouth, and its synthetic voice could translate the splurt:

"You are such a great Boss!  I hope I can be the next research subject!"

Boss grinned back at them.  "We'll see, we'll see," he muttered as he
walked off.  However, a small feeling of confusion welled up in Boss.

Boss scheduled a secret meeting with Janitor, to ask about what
Janitor called "the real world".  "Sure, come by the utility closet at
3 PM."  At 3 PM Janitor was there, but Boss was late.


Welcome to Mind Control Boss, a fantasy parody of a real world global
situation that is a little more complicated and scary than the
horrific fantasy is!

You are presently "Boss", but you can be somebody else if you say to
be.  Type commands to perform actions.

> look around

You are in Boss's office, reclining in an easy chair under a diamond
chandelier, with a huge wall of high definition video screens in front
you.  You just disabled your virtual reality mind simulation.  You are
late for a secret appointment because your augmentations are fritzing
out again.  You figure it's likely interference from the new 3G
infrastructure that was just installed.

You feel something squishy and painful near your chest.

> i'm late!  rush to secret appointment.  use Will Of Boss.

You force your body to stand by imagining yourself whipping it to
death behind closed doors.  As you do, you feel a vague pain, and some
fluids and biomatter spray violently out of your chest.  You ignore
it, figuring your nanites will clean it up like usual, whatever
nanites are.

You arrive punctually at Janitor's utility closet.  Janitor has a
folding table squeezed in here, and two very tiny chairs.  Crutches
are leaned against one wall.  Janitor puts their finger over their
lips to motion you to stay silent, as your vision augmentations
broadcast everything you see to your research projects and mind
control network.

> disable broadcast

You mentally have your augmentations make the meeting private.  You
think you hear somebody giggling, then realise it must have been your

> sit down with janitor.  say thank you.

"Thank you for seeing me here, worthless scum of a lowest employee,"
you say with a grin and an outstretched hand.

"No problem!" grins Janitor, shaking your hand.  You feel that dull
pain again and some more biomatter violently sprays from your chest,
hitting you in the crotch.  Luckily, nanites.

> chat with janitor

Janitor and you chat a little bit.  You have some trouble getting up
and returning to your office, and almost hand Janitor your wallet, so
you increase the communication and influence strength of your
supportive augmentations.

> return to office

You are back in your office.  You get a new cigar.

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